A beguiling bard set up shop in an underground train station and played subversive songs to commuters disguised as entertainment. Crooning of peace and hope with a deceiving smile 'cross his face, he coerced many a listener to drop change in his case.

But there was that day a deputy, wise beyond his years, who hearing the bard while on patrol saw through the smoke and mirrors. With justice burning in his heart he courageously approached the bard and with these words he quelled all the commuters' fears:

"You can't play down here, you need to move on." The musician feigned flummoxed, "What have I done wrong?" "I'm just singing songs about love and peace! None are disturbed, some are giving money!" "But this is a business," the officer said, "would you play guitar at Bloomingdales instead?" With that he restored lawful order and peace from vagrants and vagabonds, outlaws and thieves.

The peace was short-lived, for on the train there was a conniving cripple, a beggar missing five fingers who solicited from the people. He claimed to be a sports coach as he hobbled down the aisle, asking the riders for pocket change and always to wear a smile.

The conductor saw him transfer cars and grimaced with dismay. He knew the tricks the beggar used for sympathies to sway. Indignation burning in his loins, he wished they all would keep their coins; so with these words he warned them all over the PA:

"Don't give this man money, it's against the law" The beggar kept begging, moved to the next car. "I'm taking donations for my basketball team. None are disturbed, some are giving money!" "Don't encourage disorder," the conductor said, "Give all that you have to MTA instead." With that he ensured none would be fooled by these vagrants and vagabonds, outlaws and thieves.

Now the bard sitting homeward bound on the train heard the good conductor's caution and watched as the beggar with only five fingers walked slowly in his direction. With insolence burning in his soul he cared not for the subway rule, and with these wretched words Pandora's box was to be opened:

"I have something for you," and gave him a dollar, "I know how it is, I was stopped earlier." They grinned at each other, not caring at all to keep civil order, to uphold the law. "That's why you play good music," the coach said, "Don't give up and always keep smiling instead." With that he gave credence to all anarchy for vagrants and vagabonds, outlaws and thieves.